“As soon as I have set my father free,” she rejoined. “Stay, Diane. I must not deceive you,” said François, somewhat gravely. “I cannot order your father's immediate liberation. He must remain a prisoner for a time.”
“You will not belie your royal word, sire?” she cried. “You do not mean to play me false?”
“I will liberate the Comte de Saint-Vallier ere long, and bestow a full pardon on him—foi de gentilhomme!” said the king. “For the present, I can merely commute his sentence into imprisonment. But that is tantamount to pardon.”
“Since your majesty gives me that assurance, I am content,” said Diane. “But let me have the warrant.” François at once sat down at a table, and tracing a few lines on a sheet of paper, signed the despatch, and gave it to her. “This letter to the Chancellor Duprat will accomplish all you desire,” he said. “Your father is in no danger of torture or the headsman's axe. He will be sent to the Château de Loches. But he will soon be liberated. Are you content?”
“I must be, sire,” said Diane, as she took the letter. “I shall fly with the missive to Paris.”
“Return as quickly as you can,” said François. “Were it possible, you should bring the Comte dc Saint-Vallier with you.”
“He would rather remain in his dungeon than accompany me,” she rejoined. “Adieu, sire.”
And, quitting the cabinet, she entered her litter, and proceeded towards Paris.